


Cosmic Interferences

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Bickering, F/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 Syzygy, UST, on the fluffy side, scully is driving, there's banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29580474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Set after Syzygy: They may have left Comity behind, but feelings linger.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 23
Kudos: 68
Collections: X-Files Dialogue Fanfic Exchange (2021)





	Cosmic Interferences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teaspoonofdoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspoonofdoom/gifts).



> Written for @teaspoonofdoom! 
> 
> Prompt was: "Mulder, are you actually suggesting-" "Nope. I'm insisting." 
> 
> I hope you like the story I came up with!

Scully thinks it must be a new record for Mulder to keep his thoughts to himself for all of 13 minutes. It’s not that he’s quiet over there in the passenger seat, drumming his fingers against his knees and changing his position every few seconds. His sullenness is loud, impossible to miss. It’s almost a relief when he finally does speak to her again.

Emphasis on almost.

“I know you’re the driver,” he begins hesitantly, glancing over at her. “But don’t you think we should-”

“We should nothing, Mulder,” she says. She knows she’s gripping the steering wheel too tightly, her knuckles glaringly white. Her neck is tense and in knots, in desperate need of a massage. Her whole body has gone into flight mode. She’s driving too fast, her foot like lead on the gas pedal. She wants to get as far away from Comity, ‘The Perfect Harmony City’. What a joke.

“I’m the driver,” she adds.

That shuts him up for another two minutes. Yes, she’s counting the minutes. It’s the only thing keeping her this side of sanity. But it doesn’t last, of course. Before he opens his mouth, she knows what he’s going to say.

“Scully, we’re lost. You took a wrong turn and-”

“I know where we’re going,” she snaps. It’s a blatant lie but she doesn’t want to give Mulder the satisfaction of being right. Not today. Not after Comity. The anger sits deep inside her stomach, like a stubborn, petulant child that refuses to put on a second sock and go to school.

Mulder mumbles something unintelligible and Scully’s head shoots around to him. “Do you want to say something, Mulder?”

“No,” he replies with a spiteful smile. “I’d rather you pay attention to the road. We’re already lost. I wouldn’t want to end up in a ditch, too.” He holds up his hands in surrender, like a poor, innocent lamb. That’s it. She’d had it with him.

“You’re just angry that I’m driving, aren’t you?”

“Well, I’d like to get to the airport before our flight leaves so yeah.”

“Mulder, are you actually suggesting that-“

This time he cuts her off. “Nope,” he says, popping the word like gum. “I’m insisting that you let me drive the rest of the way.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says and huffs a laugh.

“I’m not. We’re-

“I don’t mean you,” Scully says. “It’s the car. The check engine light just came on.”

“Stop the car.”

She considers ignoring him. The check engine light might mean nothing. His eyes bore into her profile so eventually, she sets the blinker and lets the car come to a stop.

“And now?” She turns to Mulder but leaves her hands on the wheel.

“I’ll check on the engine.”

“Mulder, you don’t know anything about cars.”

“You don’t know everything about me, Scully.” She hears his resentment in the way he slams the car door shut, making the whole car vibrate. Scully watches as Mulder wrestles with the hood of the car, biting her lip. She won’t laugh. As much as she wants to, she won’t do it. It’s blatantly obvious that he has no idea what he’s doing. For all she knows, he’s making things worse. Wannabe Macho Mulder is a sight to behold. He takes off his jacket and rolls up his sleeves before he disappears from her sight. Scully swallows hard, momentarily losing her train of thought.

“Try it,” he says a few moments later, slamming the hood shut. He stands there with his hands on his hips, an expectant look on his face. 

Scully turns the key and the car sputters once, twice and then dies. She tries again, but to no avail. Whatever Mulder did, he made the wrong choice. It seems like the day for it, too.

“Scully?” He asks.

“You broke it,” she replies

“Let me try.” He yanks the driver's seat door open and waits for her to step out. As soon as she does, he sits down, not even bothering to adjust the seat. The car howls in desperation but doesn’t start.

“Fuck,” he says, leaning his head against the wheel. For the first time this day, Scully’s anger dissipates. She touches Mulder’s shoulder, and he stares up at her. There’s an imprint of the wheel on his forehead and a smudge of motor oil on his cheek. If she weren’t so angry with him, she’d think he looks adorable.

“What are we going to do now?”

“Let’s call AAA. And the airport, too,” he says, glancing at her. “There’s no way we’re going to make our flight.”

“You make it sound like it’s my fault.” Well, he was cute for a whole five seconds. Her fury returns with a vengeance.

“It kind of is, isn’t it?”

“You cannot be serious right now, Mulder.”

“We wouldn’t be here if you’d just let me drive!” He’s out of the car, pressing into her personal space. He’s towering over her, his face too close for comfort. It reminds her of when he sniffed her like a dog only to realize it wasn’t her perfume that was driving him wild. The memory fuels her anger. She pushes at his chest, needing more space. They stare at each other, eyes wide like two deer caught in the headlights.

“The car still would have died, Mulder,” she says as evenly as she can. “That’s not my fault.”

“It isn’t mine either.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Yeah, but you looked at me that way.” He’s back in her space, needling her. She thinks about pushing him away again. Punching him, maybe. The irritation he causes in her takes a somersault and transforms into something new. What would happen if they kissed? The thought comes so quickly, so unbidden, to her that she recoils from it. She gasps as Mulder steps closer still. He’s radiating heat, driving her crazy.

“What way?” She stutters. She’s never stuttered. Never.

“Why are you so angry at me?” He’s so close that his lips almost graze hers.

“I don’t know,” she answers truthfully, staring into his eyes. His pupils are dilated. When did that happen? She tears her own eyes away from his. Only to be confronted with the dark smudge on his skin. She licks her lips and lifts her finger, gently rubbing at his cheek.

“What-“ he asks, catching her wrist in his hand.

“Motor oil,” she breathes out.

“Where?”

“On your face. Let me… Mulder, let go of my hand.” His fingers loosen their grip, and she brings her finger back to her mouth, Mulder watching her, his breath coming out in puffs. She licks her finger, and she thinks she hears a groan. She ignores it, ignores everything, and touches Mulder’s cheek again, wiping against his warm skin. There’s the first hint of a beginning stubble against her finger, the friction giving her goosebumps.

“Why are you so tiny?” He asks with exasperation in his voice. Her movement stops, finger pressed against his cheek.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry, I- that came out wrong. You’re… not tall.”

“You’re too tall, Mulder. Have you ever considered that?”

“No,” he admits, and she continues wiping at his cheek. She wonders if he’s thinking of Detective White, if that’s the reason he mentioned her height. She isn’t sure she wants to know. “Scully, about what you saw last night…”

“It’s none of my business. I overreacted.”

He shakes his head. “No, you were right. I don’t know what happened. She isn’t- she isn’t even my type.”

Scully snorts. “She’s exactly your type, Mulder.”

The surprise on his face is genuine. “She isn’t,” he repeats, softer this time. Scully tries to remember why she was so angry mere minutes ago. Her mind is empty. All she knows is Mulder’s proximity. The sweet smell of sweat that he emits, mingled with the saltiness of the sunflower seeds he’s been snacking on. Would she taste them on his lips, too? On his tongue? She swallows, hard. Being annoyed with him is so much easier than being aroused.

“Scully, my actions last night may not reflect it but what I really want to do right now is,” his face comes closer and closer still. With the last word, his lips are there, hers for the taking, brushing against her in a whisper. Her eyes flutter shut in anticipation. She wants this. It shocks her how much she wants it. She knows she shouldn’t. But right now, right here, it doesn’t matter. Mulder’s mouth is so close, and he won’t taste like the cheap cigarettes she indulged in last night. She doesn’t know what draws her to him, now. Some cosmic constellation, maybe. Or maybe it’s science. She’s wondered so often what his lips would feel like. How he’d taste. She owes this to herself, to her profession.

“Mulder,” she whimpers but before their lips meet, before she finds out what all her feelings from the last few days have meant, a car blares it horn startling them apart.

“Hey,” a man in his 50s leans out of the window, glaring at them. “You guys need a ride?”

Mulder and Scully share a look. She wants to say no and send him back on his way. There will be another car at one point. What she wants is to finish what they started here. The moment, though, has passed. Mulder nods at her, barely. She’s not sure if she’s just imagining things. Like the barely discernible look of disappointment on his face.

“We do,” Mulder answers for the two of them.

She listens to Mulder and the driver – Carl – make introductions, watches as their luggage is transferred from one car to the other.

She wonders if they’ll ever have another moment like this. Or if they have to wait for the next cosmic g-spot to find them.


End file.
